I, Alexandrina Page 7

  “And let’s dress ourselves up because why not? I brought a few things we can wear. Let’s see what you have, too.”

  “Are you sure about going out?” I said as Caroline riffled through my closet.

  “Yes. We cannot live in fear or let other people dictate our lives. Besides, we will stay in the car.”

  I had a bad feeling in my stomach, but what could I do? Say no to this woman who enchanted me? Pass up a chance for time with her?

  “I’ve done this before,” Caroline said.

  “You have?”

  “Oh, yes. Never been caught, never been revealed as the Duchess of York.” A pause. “Oh!” Caroline exclaimed. “Fabulous!” She waved the red dress from the Saudi Arabian prince. “This is the one.”

  Then, without notice, Caroline pulled off her shirt. Oh God oh God. I swerved my gaze to a plant in a corner. Embarrassment sang through my veins. Something else sang through them too, something excited and turned on. The glimpse I had caught of Caroline’s chest…black bra, perfect globes of breasts. I dared not return my glance to her, lest she be just as naked or even more naked.

  “Alex? Come on, get dressed.”

  I forced my gaze to Caroline. There was light amusement on her face, and she wore a black song of a dress that clung to her in an impossible manner. Daringly short, and it exposed a paralyzing amount of cleavage. Paralyzing as in I could not move.

  Gulp, gulp. Look away. Look away.

  “How do I look?” Caroline had to ask.

  “Perfect.” I forced myself to pick up the red dress, and Caroline left the room. I hastily pulled the garment on.

  “Ta-da!” Caroline said as we stood in front of the mirror a minute later. “Think you’ll be okay in the heels?”

  I tottered on a pair of three-inchers. They were courtesy of Caroline and lent much-desired height to my frame. Caroline, ever considerate, wore flats, so we were close in height.

  “I look pretty,” I said in a breathy whisper, twisting fake blond strands around my finger. “I actually look pretty.”

  “You are always pretty, Alex.”

  I shook my head and said nothing. Caroline was being nice, and I would ignore it. I would enjoy tonight for what it was. The blond hair in addition to the rest of my getup certainly lent me a certain mystique. I might even be more than pretty. In fact, I might be attractive.

  Ten minutes later, Caroline and I sat in a security vehicle with another pair, Chad and Xandra, in the front. At Caroline’s request, they had put up a dark privacy barrier, and the front and back could not hear or see each other.

  Caroline had brought booze aplenty. “It’s about fifty minutes to London,” she said. “Let’s party! Your very own flask.” She presented me with a British-flag-themed flask reading, Alex.

  “Oh! Oh, thank you.”

  Caroline drank and drank. I drank minimally, knowing that the night stretched out before us and that I was a novice to alcohol.

  “How about that Albert, eh?” Caroline said.

  “He’s nice.”

  “Saw you making gaga eyes at him.”

  I shifted uncomfortably. “Not really.”

  “You won Louise over. You did great.” Caroline patted my thigh, which, because of my dress riding up was, exposed.

  Oh. Oh. Not this again. My body whirred into crazy overreaction mode. Arms quivering. Legs trembling. Vagina whirring. Swallow, swallow. Was Caroline punishing me for touching her knee last night? Or was she rewarding me?

  She removed her touch. “Albert likes you,” she said quietly. “I think it’ll work.”

  “I’m not drawn to him. Not like I should be. I don’t want to jump him and have my way with him.”

  “You don’t?” She seemed genuinely surprised.

  “I don’t.”

  Small laugh. “Damn. That doesn’t happen often with our dear prince, I’ll tell you. Hmm. This could be interesting.”

  We drove by Big Ben. The London Eye. I could hardly see my beloved nighttime stars, but that was okay.

  “I feel like I’m in a fairy tale,” I said, my heart pounding in my ears. This was my land. My country. My home. Grandeur and splendor surrounded me from all angles, and I should have been happy. I was, but still…I did not feel right. I still felt like a pretender, like no one exciting.

  Caroline rolled down her window and yelled, “Whoo!” She encouraged me to do the same. I downed a swallow of vodka and pressed the button to lower my window. My wig stayed securely in place; Caroline was a master with wig caps, hairspray and bobby pins. I stuck my head out and shouted, “Hello, London!”

  “Helloooooo, London!” Caroline echoed. She grabbed my arm. “See! This is fun.”

  It was fun, and I kept drinking. More than I should have.

  “I have to pee,” Caroline said. She fumbled with the intercom buttons. “Go to Potsy’s,” she told the guards. “Pit stop. Won’t be long.”

  “Potsy’s?” I said.

  “Dance club. It’s close. I want you to see it. Oh, we’ll get in, don’t worry. It’s where I met Philip. Oh, this is fun!” She beamed. “I’m glad you are here, Alex.”

  We got to Potsy’s about ten-thirty. “Perfect timing,” Caroline confided. “At ten, it changes from more of a bar scene to a dance scene.”

  “I thought we were here so you can pee.”

  “We are, we are.”

  Chad parked the SUV and stayed in it. Xandra trailed me and Caroline as we lined up for Potsy’s. “The line is crazy on weekends,” she said. Right now, it was about forty people deep, and plenty of music escaped the confines of Potsy’s to fill the air around us.

  I studied the night sky. Not many stars were out, and like last night, the sky appeared a weak imitation of the canvas in Marslavia. There, I had dreamed about soaring to the heavens. Now, in London, I had found my own heavens—Caroline. But my sky! My poor sky.

  “See something interesting up there?” Caroline asked.

  “No, unfortunately.”

  “What’s wrong?”

  I shivered despite the muggy weather. “The night sky in Marslavia was beautiful.”

  “Even with the pollution?”

  “Yes. We were far away and on a hill set apart from the smog. I love the stars, Caroline. They were like my true friends. They watched over me. Why don’t they watch over me here?”

  “A different kind of pollution. It’s called light pollution. We’re in London. Street lights and other types of light make it a lot harder to see the sky. Your stars are still up there, Alex. They’re just harder to see. I’ll find a good place out in the country where we can stargaze, and we can do that soon. Okay?”

  “Really?”

  Caroline met my gaze, and her eyes were lovely, more lovely than any stars. She squeezed my hand. “I promise.”

  “Philip said I need to do something with my life. He wants me to investigate different fields to see what I might like to do.”

  Caroline bit her lip. “Ah.”

  “I didn’t tell him this because…because I guess I don’t like him much? But I’d like to do something with the stars. I know a little about them because of classes back home.”

  “That sounds excellent, Alex. Maybe you’ll go on the Mars mission or be the first woman to step foot on the moon! Take that, Neil Armstrong!”

  Neil who? Something from the way Caroline said her words made me think that mankind had already explored the heavens. Again, I felt impossibly stupid. TV, phones and now this. So much I had missed out on.

  “I’m too far behind for a job like that,” I said glumly.

  “You’re not!” Caroline said. “You are not. I will help you. You will get the education and training you need.”

  “What about Albert?” The man you spent fifteen minutes on last night telling me to marry.

  “Oh.” Caroline frowned. “Yes, Albert.” She studied me, searched my face. Tried to figure me out. “As his wife, as…” Caroline lowered her voice to a whisper. “As Princess of Wales, it
’s customary for your job to be a support to your husband. But guess what, Alex? You don’t have to!” She threw her head back, exposed a delightful neck, and laughed. “In fact, Albert would probably be drawn to you more for it. He likes strong and independent women.”

  I am not strong and independent, Caroline. I am eighteen years old and sheltered.

  At long last, we were next in line. The man asked for our IDs, and Xandra slipped him a wad of bills. That was ID enough, and we were in Potsy’s. “Finally!” Caroline said. “I’m about to burst.”

  Loud music. Eardrums splitting. THUMP THUMP WHOO BOOM.

  She led me through crowds of men and scantily dressed women. They scared me. Many danced as if they shared one skin. Bodies, torsos wrapped around each other. Gyrating. Hands straying everywhere. Men clutching women’s buttocks. Women clutching men’s. Kissing on the neck. Mouths finding each other. Tongues playing.

  Caroline dragged me to a slightly less-crowded area and cupped her hands to my ear. “This is where I met him!”

  I could barely hear her over the music.

  “I was with a few girlfriends,” she shouted.

  Girlfriends! What? Oh my God. My heart trilled in glorious song. Wait. How did multiple girlfriends at the same time work?

  Caroline screamed some more. “I can’t hear you!” I yelled, and she took me to the bathrooms one level up.

  **

  The bathrooms, like all of Potsy’s, were a luxurious affair, and they were well away from the worst of the music. Each toilet and sink pair had its own mini-suite with a deep-sunk chair and a side table. And good sound proofing, too, as I could barely hear the music. Caroline closed the door behind us and let go of my hand. She lifted her dress slightly and sat on the toilet.

  Was she not wearing underwear? What did her vagina area look like? I glanced away, pretending to be fascinated by a painting of nighttime London on the wall. Caroline’s pee blended with the music to come down fast and furious, urgent. It made me think of what she must be like in bed. Hot, passionate, one hundred percent. My sexual need flared and burned brightly between my legs.

  Caroline’s heated stream of urine gradually slowed and stopped altogether.

  “Is the painting that fascinating, Alex?”

  I kept my gaze fixed. “Yes.”

  “I make you uncomfortable. I’m sorry.” Toilet flush.

  “Don’t be. You are who you are, and I adore you for it.”

  “You adore me? Really?” The tap turned on—motion sensor—and Caroline scrubbed her hands.

  “I adore you. Yes.” My buzz was releasing my insides into easy waves. I felt loosey-goosey but not so much that I would wax eloquent about my feelings for Caroline.

  Or maybe I would. The bathroom suite was beginning to tilt. I felt as if I were on one of the sea voyages I had read about. Moby Dick. Chasing the great whale. The central body of it is hidden in the snowy sparkling mist enveloping it; and how can you certainly tell whether any water falls from it, when, always, when you are close enough to a whale to get a close view of his spout, he is in a prodigious commotion, the water cascading all around him.

  Oooh. Caroline was my great whale. Would I get close enough for a true view?

  Caroline said, “Alex, love, you have had too much to drink. My fault. Sorry. No more for you.”

  “Caro? Caroline?”

  “Yes, Alex? I’m here.”

  “How does a woman make another woman pregnant?”

  Caroline blinked. “Say that again, please.”

  I did.

  “A woman doesn’t…a woman can’t…” Her look was one of faint amusement.

  Mortification, burning mortification. “Let’s go,” I said, brushing past Caroline.

  “Wait.” She grabbed hold of me before I could leave the bathroom. “Alex,” she said from behind, putting her arms around my waist, intensifying the need between my legs. Her hands rested on my stomach, and her breasts pressed into my back. Her breath tickled my ear. What would her teeth nibbling on my earlobes feel like? “It’s okay. I’m sorry if I seemed to…look. A baby is made from a sperm and an egg. Women only have eggs. Men only have sperm.”

  Let go of me. Let me go, or I shall say or do something I regret.

  “Alex? Are you okay? You’re breathing hard. Are you crying?”

  “I’m stupid. I’m so stupid. I didn’t know what a TV or a phone was until the plane. I don’t know who Neil Armstrong is!”

  “Alex, love, it’s fine. It really is. Each person has different things to learn.”

  The bathroom door in front of me was wooden, slatted. Frosted glass too, to enhance privacy. The knob rattled. There were other bathrooms, but Caroline and I had been in here too long. Time to go.

  Then Caroline kissed my neck. Just like that. One moment, my neck was an ordinary neck, and in the next moment, it was a neck forever blessed by virtue of Caroline’s lips on it.

  Gooseflesh. Everywhere. Arms, legs. I moaned. “Oh, Caroline. Oh my God.” Shiver, shiver. Toes curling. Toes curling. Oh my God! One simple kiss, also an extraordinary kiss. It felt so good I must have been dreaming.

  I turned to face Caroline, her kiss fueling my fearlessness. “I don’t want to marry Albert. I don’t want to be a countess or a princess. I don’t want to be the future queen of England. I want to go to the stars. Do you understand, Caroline? Will you help me?”

  Shadows played across her expression. It was as if she was seeing me as a different person. An agonizing moment. Unbearable tension. Then the light at the end of the tunnel: “Yes. I will help you.”

  Part Two

  May 15, 2018

  FIRST RIGHTS TO A CLONE SOLD

  THE WASHINGTON STANDARD

  By Peter Jones, STAFF WRITER

  The Clone Show announced Monday that it has sold its first rights to a clone. The company has yet to release details on the buyer, clone or contract terms. However, a source close to the sale told The Washington Standard that some people are bound to see the selected clone as a surprising choice.

  “It certainly was a shock to me,” the source said. “This person is the first to leave when you have the likes of Lucrezia Borgia, Marie Antoinette, Queen Victoria and George Washington?”

  Depending on the buyer and where he or she plans to take the clone, the sale could amount to slavery, for example, if the buyer plans to keep the clone in Marslavia.

  “We can only hope the people who purchase rights to the clones do so with the purest motives,” said Kyree Duncan, president of the global Freedom and Dignity Association. The group is raising money to set its own clone free, but it remains at least $80 million short of the $100 million minimum The Clone Show set for each clone.

  Interest in buying rights has not been as high as Clone Show founders Russ Brendel and John Jameson anticipated. The source close to the sale said that the co-founders are anxious to move on with their lives and are considering dropping the minimum to $900,000.

  The source described Brendel’s and Jameson’s attitudes at the conclusion of this first sale as somewhat snarky. “One down, forty-nine to go,” the source quoted Brendel as quipping.

  A second sale may not be far behind. Also on Monday, the British government announced that it is satisfied with the latest round of DNA results and is only $11 million short of the funds needed to buy rights to the clone known as Alexandrina Victoria, a.k.a. Queen Victoria.

  The Clone Show’s 50 clones are 18 years old. They grew up together in an orphanage of sorts, and upon the clones’ 16th birthdays two years ago, Brendel and Jameson, American billionaire scientists, announced to a stunned world that they’d cloned 50 people from history and were opening a type of zoo/circus. Their plan was for “tourists” to travel to Marslavia, a former Soviet republic, and pay $2,000 daily to see the clones perform.

  Criticism rained down right away, especially when it came to light that Brendel and Jameson had hired people to break into graves to steal DNA. Seven countries, including the United Sta
tes, have arrest warrants out on the men, but as long as they stay in Marslavia, they are virtually assured of their freedom.

  Brendel and Jameson had projected annual revenues exceeding $10 billion from The Clone Show, but performances never began. Airlines refused to increase their routes to fly into Marslavia. Trains, too, refused to expand operations. And, finally, eight out of every 10 people worldwide expressed no interest in making the arduous trip. The percentage of people who were willing to make the trip and who could afford to do so was infinitesimal.

  **

  June 23, 2022

  IT’S A GIRL! BRITAIN WELCOMES NEW PRINCESS

  THE WASHINGTON STANDARD

  By Peter Jones, STAFF WRITER

  LONDON—The royal baby of the century has arrived. Clarence House staff announced that Victoria, Princess of Wales, gave birth to a girl on Thursday at 8:31 a.m.

  The announcement led to a raucous cheer from the crowd of royal watchers who had camped out around the hospital for a week to await the birth.

  “Her Royal Highness and her daughter are doing marvelously,” Clarence House said in its statement, which also mentioned that Albert, Prince of Wales, was present at the birth.

  Albert left the hospital briefly several hours after the birth. “How is your daughter doing?” an onlooker cried out.

  Albert offered an open smile. “Fantastic. She’s fantastic. Victoria and I are completely in love with her.”

  “Who does she look like?” yelled another onlooker.

  “She’s her own girl. A brilliant baby,” Albert said.

  Queen Louise and the Duke of Edinburgh are “thrilled” at the birth, according to her spokesman. The girl, weighing 7 pounds, 3 ounces, is the first princess to be born into the royal family since Queen Louise’s younger sister.

  Oddsmakers have the girl’s name pegged to be Caroline Alexandrina Elizabeth Louise, with the name in part designed to honor Caroline, the former Duchess of York and a close friend of the Princess of Wales.

  The new princess is second in line to the throne, after her father.

  I, Caroline